


The Theory Behind Contrition

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, tw:excessive meming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 11:49:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1687247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Otherwise known as where Hal is a meme loving shit and Dirk is exasperated)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Theory Behind Contrition

**Author's Note:**

> Because of Gigapause and also memes. And who doesn't like memeing robots?

"Wow."

 

Dirk doesn't sigh or do anything remotely emotional whatsoever as he hears the clunk of metal and metallic voice behind him. Hal probably wishes he could flashstep like his memories portray him doing (however those are Dirk's memories implanted into his brain because, well, that is what Hal is really. Dirk's brain. Well, second brain; less smart. Definitely.) but alas he cannot. The metal of his legs is too creaky (Dirk oils his joints every day and Hal complains about it being robo-arthritis) and his metal feet are too clumpy to slide gracefully across the floor. Maybe Dirk will give him a pair of heelies like the twelve year old (oops sorry, correction, thirteen year old) he is.

 

"Wow what?" Dirk asks and if any emotion slips into his voice it's just because of tiredness and the emotion is tiredness (if tired is an emotion).

 

He's not doing anything impressive. It's a present and a pretty lame one at that. Okay, so maybe Roxy likes her biological cats and maybe she distinctly told him she didn't want a robotic cat for her fifteenth birthday. But like hell if Dirk isn't vetoing her decision and making her a metal feline companion anyway. It doesn't shed, doesn't scratch and can dual-wield. What more could a girl ask for? (Probably tampons and shit. Dirk doesn't know jack shit about how menstruation works though.)

 

"Wow so cat," Hal says blankly, his unseeing eyes that sort of do see (hey, Dirk just creates the shit, he doesn't explain it) staring at the metallic creature on the worktop in front of him As if on cue, Dirk touches a wire inside its body (and using gloves with dangerous electrical equipment is for fucking chumps) and the cat's tail twitches as if its unimpressed with the grammatical structure of that sentence.

 

"Wow so cat," Dirk repeats, barely tilting an eyebrow to convey how dumb he thinks that statement is. "Are you malfunctioning or have you been speaking binary to Lalonde so long that you forgot basic English grammar?"

 

If Hal was capable of raising an eyebrow (which he isn't because he doesn't have any. Seriously, why would Dirk give him eyebrows? Seems like a pointless endeavour.) he would be doing so as he replies, "Wow so cat. Much twitch. So tail. Very unnecessary."

 

Dirk stares. He has no idea what just came out of Hal's mouth. "Do I need to fix you up before you go bothering Crocker?"

 

"Such bother. Very Crocker. Wow such bore."

 

Dirk stares harder.

 

Oh.

 

Oh fuck.

 

"You're not," he says, his voice more of a plea than a warning as he sees the light trickle over the sensor grid of Hal's mouth in the closest thing a robot can do to smile when they don't have the facial muscle capabilities in metal to actually contort their face.

 

"I am."

 

"You can't."

 

"Challenge accepted."

 

Dirk actually lets out a groan. A full bodied, loud groan as he drops his head into his hands, his shades coming slightly askew as he runs his hand quickly through the mop he calls hair (shut up, it's an art.) "Not memes, dude. Can you just not?"

 

"Can you not?"

 

"Oh fuck, you've even got me doing it," he says, looking up from his hands with a deadpan, weary expression. It is way too early or late or whatever time it is (he's been awake roughly 73 hours) for this utter bullshit, "Memes are fucking contagious. Call the non-existent internet police to haul your ass off to a shitty robo jail cell so I can be quarantined from your rank ass germs. Do you know what they do to robots in prison, Hal? Do you? Because I fucking don't. I don't think the authorities ever arrested an android before."

 

"I know that feel, bro," Hal replies, his monotone conveying nothing of empathy.

 

"No you fucking don't. You don't have emotions, dick."

 

"That hurts me," Hal says, not even portraying mock hurt. Maybe he can't. Dirk almost feels bad for not giving him a wider range of vocal abilities. Almost. The last thing he needs is to be woken up to aggressive yodelling. "Like if you cry every time."

 

"Oh for fuck's sake."

 

"Hello fuck's sake, I'm dad."

 

"That doesn't even make sense!"

 

"Hello that doesn't even make sense, I'm dad."

 

"Your name isn't even fucking dad. You are not a father."

 

Hal pauses for a second. "Is this the part where I do a victory twerk like they do on Jerry Springer? I would like that but I do not think I have that booty that would make the audience go hot damn."

 

"Jesus fuck, never ever say the word twerk again," Dirk bemoans, "And do not fucking do it either or I swear to god I will disassemble you and throw you into the sea and you will rust."

 

"Challenge accepted."

 

"You already used that one."

 

"It's a meme within a meme. Memeception."

 

"No it isn't, you just wanted to use that meme."

 

"Dirk."

 

Silence. Oh sweet jesus, silence. Life was so much easier back when he could just take off his shades and be free of the annoying meme phase (it's even worse when Dirk remembers that yeah Hal is him aged thirteen. Let's hope he doesn't bring up the weeaboo phase too like hell naw.).

 

"Dirk."

 

The android is ignored. Maybe he'll go away like an elementary school bully if Dirk just continues this.

 

"Dirk."

 

"Oh for the love of fuck, what?" Dirk asks, looking back at the other.

 

Hal says nothing. He just stares unseeingly. How eerie.

 

"What?" Dirk repeats.

 

"I'm doing the Leanardo the capri sun face."

 

"You know full well that's not his name."

 

"I know everything."

 

Dirk groans. "You're not even making a face! You're not making anything! You barely have a face!"

 

"Your mom barely has a face."

 

"I don't have a mother."

 

"That feel when no mother."

 

"No."

 

"I know the feel, bro."

 

"No you don't. You don't know feelings full stop."

 

There's silence for a moment. And then, it starts. The music. Dirk can't place it for a moment and can't place where it's coming from, standing up from his seat in unvoiced and unexpressed confusion. Then he recognizes the song and recognizes the direction of the noise from inside Hal's speakers.

 

"No."

 

"But yes."

 

"No."

 

"Yes."

 

Dirk wants to scream but that would be showing weakness. "Rick Astley? Seriously? That's not even a good meme!"

 

"I'm conveying my feelings that I don't have through a musical number," Hal states as if he's not using that as an excuse for blaring Rick Astley from the speakers on the sides of his head.

 

"Couldn't you pick something fucking decent to get your feelings out?"

 

"I don't think Rick Astley raps but I can try."

 

"Please don't rap."

 

Hal stares. "I was implying I was going to search for a song where Rick Astley raps but if you want me to rap I can."

 

"I *don't* want you to rap."

 

"But I'm fantastic."

 

"No."

 

"I get all of the bitches with my sick beats."

 

"Please no."

 

"They're lining up. All the way down the streets. They want me."

 

"Roxy is friendzoning you."

 

There is silence. Sweet sweet silence. If robots could narrow their eyes, Hal probably would be doing just that. But robots cannot to shit like that so he just brings his middle and forefinger up to his eyes before pointing them at Dirk and absconding.

 

(Dirk pretends not to notice that he moonwalked out the door.)

 

(Fucking robots.)


End file.
